


Out of the Woods

by Rosehip



Series: Strange Luck [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Child Abandonment, Child Abuse, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 22:43:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10976895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosehip/pseuds/Rosehip
Summary: Macsen Surana has been caught by Templars and is on his way to the Circle. But is his remaining family just going to stand for that?





	Out of the Woods

The forest ushered Ser Ethan and Ser Bryant out of itself as though they had overstayed an evening's entertainment. They no longer turned in inexplicable circles. The storm headed back towards the forest's heart. The space between lightning and thunder grew; the rain lessened. The trees grew farther apart, as well.

 

The gloom increased. The twilight turned the forest to blue murk. Bryant couldn't say why, or spot anything suspicious, but he felt strongly of being watched. He wished they could hurry still more, but the mud sucked at their boots and their packs weighed three times as much as they would have, dry.

 

Bryant hitched the shrieking, wiggly bundle of elf-child more securely under his arm. “I don't suppose you'd mind helping me with this for a mile or two?”

 

Ethan snorted. “Yes, I'd mind. Still your problem, Bryant. I've given my suggestion.”

 

“But I can't just... do that.”

 

“Well, I could. Therefore, I wash my hands of it.” The older man shook his head. “Look, I know you're still idealistic, but these elves are usually trouble for the tower. I'm not sure you're doing the kid a mercy, but do what you want.”

 

They trudged on in silence until Bryant's boots hit bare ground. The deer track they followed cut right across a rutted road. A tree across from them bore a strip of white paint.

 

Ethan let out a relieved sigh. “I know right where we are. We're around four days closer than I thought. Blighted creepy forest.”

 

Tiny joined feet clanged into Bryant's side and the cocooned elf dropped into the road with a squish. It rolled and wiggled a few feet before Bryant caught it.

 

“That's it,” Bryant said. “If you can do that, you can walk.”

 

“Nooooo! I won't walk! I won'tIwon'tIwon't! You're bad!”

 

“Your mother was bad,” muttered Ethan as he crossed his arms.

 

“Liar! Ma halani! Anyone! Please!” The child's shrill voice cut across the air and startled small animals into flight.

 

“Thank you for that,” Bryant snorted. “If you're not going to help, could you not hinder?”

 

Ethan shrugged and leaned against a tree. It would have to do.

 

Bryant hauled his unfortunately damp rope out of his pack. He'd have to take care as it dried. He shaped a simple harness around the squealing, struggling child. He earned two more bolts of lightning for his trouble and decided that for everyone's safety, he had to tie its hands as well. He could feel all his hair standing on end.

 

“Stop it,” he told the child. “I don't want to hurt you but if you keep it up, I will have to.”

 

The elf glared at him with uncanny pale blue eyes. It calmed itself with a few deep, shuddering breaths. The threat must have worked. Bryant thanked the maker. He had no wish to harm a child. But instead of standing to follow at the end of the leash he'd shaped, the elf squared its shoulders and nodded.

 

“Ma nuvenin,” it said. “Falon'din take me. Will you put me back with Mamae so we can go to the beyond together? Else leave me by that birch. The elvhen can find me there.”

 

“I tried to tell you,” said Ethan.

 

What in the world? This child couldn't be old enough to understand what that would mean. But that sounded like a request for death?! Bryant's stomach did a flip. He knelt beside the child. A little more mud could hardly make a difference. He removed his helm to make eye contact. “I know you're sad. I know it hurts. You don't understand everything that happened here, today. You will, someday. But right now, we all have to go. I'm taking you to the tower. It's a place of learning. It won't be so bad. Regardless, none of us has a choice.”

 

The elf's whole being radiated surprise. “You have a face!”

 

His own surprise joined that of the child. “Yes. Nearly everyone does.”

 

“Oh.” Its breath started to come in shallow gasps; the resolve it showed a moment ago crumbled away.

 

Bryant cursed his reflexive dark humor. “Nonono, don't start that again. I'll leave the helmet off if you stay quiet and walk with me as long as you can.”

 

It shivered and began to hiccup, but it stood.

 

They resumed their journey.

 

*

 

Macsen had never felt more frightened.

 

He didn't know which terrified him more: Metal shemlen, or metal shemlen with normal shemlen inside of them. Dozens of horrible possibilities sprouted in his mind like mushrooms. Was the “tower” full of metal shemlen? Would they give him a metal body, too? Would it turn him into someone as mean as they were? It looked so heavy. He wouldn't be able to move right.

 

Not that he could move right at the moment, anyway. Most of the animals on the farm his clan had traveled through had been tied, as well. Everything must want to run away from shemlen. He would try. Mamae had told him that he must. She must have been afraid of what they would do to him. She knew many things. Had known. A dry sob tore from Macsen's throat.

 

It broke his concentration and Macsen fell, shrieking.

 

The shems stopped quickly after one step too many jerked the ropes up against his armpits. The shem with the regular, brown skinned face stooped to help him up, but he couldn't keep going like this.

 

“Mana!” Macsen panted. “I can't, anymore. I-I'm thirsty and I have to pee. Ar souveri. Abelas. I mean wait. Please. I'm sorry.”

 

They stopped to take care of all that. To his embarrassment, the shemlen never turned their backs on him.

 

The shems talked between themselves while he rested. The one that had been talking to him asked if he thought he could walk a little more. He looked angry. Macsen agreed that he would try. If doing what they wanted meant they'd take better care of him, then what else could he do?

 

Maybe if he cooperated, they'd stop watching him as closely.

 

They reached a stone building a while after nightfall. A lantern lit the outside of it. Great, hooved animals, larger than halla but without horns, wandered through a fenced yard at the side. A shemlen boy stared at them as they approached. Macsen wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

 

He balked at the door. So many shemlen! Many stopped what they were doing to stare. He could not do this. He might not be able to even without everyone knowing he was a captive. His feet dug into the ground, bare toes pressed against the threshold. The harness bit into him as the man kept going.

 

The man glowered down at Macsen and picked him up.

 

Shemlen filled the building. Light and the noise of their booming voices filled every corner of the space. The two who had caught Macsen finally took off their metal casings and gave the owner of the building coins for food and a place by the fire. The round-faced, smiling owner asked about Macsen and the shemlen who held his leash called him a “new mage” and promised he'd see to it that there was “no trouble.” He asked Macsen to promise the same, and untied his hands when he nodded.

 

Without the metal on, the shemlen looked like any others. The one who spoke to Macsen was younger and had brown skin and dark hair. The meaner one was older and had gray hair and pale skin. He watched everything with intensity, like he didn't trust anything at all.

 

They ate like bears. Macsen hadn't been sure if he could eat, but the wife of the owner ruffled his hair and brought him a mug of milk and a bowl of grain meal with fruit in it. He sat on the floor to eat. He couldn't reach the table. The milk tasted strange, but the food agreed with his fluttery stomach. He started to nod off in spite of the bright and noise of the place. He pried his eyes open several times.

 

_Papae held him up to pet the soft nose of the halla. It lipped at him gently. He giggled. The halla knelt. Papae thanked it for its kindness, and they rode through the nearby woods. Papae showed him different trees, animals, and birds as they passed. Macsen learned the elvhen names for things if they had a word of their own, and learned the trade names for things either way. Papae asked Macsen if he'd like to be a hunter when he grew older, like himself. Papae was very strong and provided for everyone, but Macsen didn't think so. He didn't want to travel away from the others for days, unless he found a very good hunt brother. He thought he might like to work with the halla instead. It made a noise in response that sounded like friendly laughter._

 

_They came back, in time. Papae carried him back to their aravel. Mamae looked up from the boots she was stitching, and smiled. Macsen smiled back, but something in the back of him hurt, so much, to see her._

 

He awoke in dim, red firelight, surrounded not by family but creeping cats, snoring humans, and whuffling dogs. One of the cats, a big, black, fluffy thing, had curled up beside him on the pillow he slept upon. Someone had untied the harness and taken his muddy clothes. He wore nothing under the blanket but a thick breech cloth like he was a baby.

 

_Stupid shemlen!_ Couldn't they tell he was bigger than that? Macsen understood that these shemlen didn't know anything about him but that didn't stop him from being mad about it.

 

They'd chased his clan for days, forced them to scatter, hurt his Mamae; and now they couldn't decide if he was a dangerous monster or a baby. _I hate you all._

 

Everyone slept except the cats, who slunk around between this room and the place where the owners did cooking. He looked around. Shemlen slept around the fire. The ones who caught him slept between himself and the door, which had a heavy bar across it, anyway.

 

The fluffy black cat got up and left after Macsen tried to pat it. It stalked into the cooking area.

 

It didn't come back out. He could see much of the other room. Another fireplace lit work surfaces, sacks of grain, dangling pots and pans, and a wall of shelves. Macsen thought there were maybe five cats altogether, but he could only see two, now, prowling around the grain bags. Did they have a way out?

 

Macsen sat up, slowly. Nothing cared except a big old dog by the fire who immediately shut his eyes again.

 

Macsen's heart hammered in his chest. He tried to keep his breathing quiet. He had to try to go now. He and his family would only go farther apart, otherwise. He stood, and still nobody cared. He took the blanket to use as a cloak and wriggled out of the humiliating cloth. He wished he had more covers to make into a him-shaped pile like in stories, but these shemlen probably weren't actually that stupid.

 

He darted silently into the other room. A young cat chirped at him and ran through a leather flap on the wall to his left. They  _did_ have a door for cats! Macsen crept over to it and stuck an arm through. He could feel the cool night air and a few flecks of drizzle. He felt the ground. This close to the building, it felt less muddy. He pushed the blanket through and set it to the side before slipping through the flap.

 

He wrapped the dark blanket around himself and hid against the wall. Lanterns lit the fenced-in clearing. Nothing stirred on two legs. The blackness of the forest loomed beyond the circle of light.

 

If he could make it into the dark, he could hide. Macsen ran. He sped through the open space like a loosed arrow. Darting under the fence barely slowed him at all.

 

He reached the trees and plunged into darkness. His eyes took very little time to adjust. Still, he took a moment to gain his bearings. He didn't know for sure which way to go, but he had a guess. Between that and his mamae's instructions, he had a plan. He'd head the direction he thought was right, and find a stream to follow if he became even less sure of himself.

 

“Macsen!” A familiar, beloved voice called to him.

 

He nearly jumped out of his skin, anyway. “Vhenpapae! You found me!”

 

The gaunt silhouette of his mother's father ghosted out of the deepest shadows on silent, bare feet. He scooped Macsen up and hugged him, stroking his back with hands that weren't like anyone else's. “You've been so brave and clever, da'len.”

 

Macsen buried his face into his grandfather's shoulder. He breathed the familiar smell of leather and comfrey soap. “Vehnpapae, they... Mamae is...” He couldn't continue.

 

“I know. The trees told Nesi'el where to find her. I've seen her. I followed the tracks from there.” His voice wavered. He hugged Macsen harder, squeezing his air right out.

 

“Oof. Why aren't we running?” He could tell by the frogs and crickets that sunrise was close.

 

His grandfather sighed. “Clever again, my da'len. Always noticing everything. I'm so sorry, but we have to stay. I wish to the Creators that it weren't so. You must be strong.”

 

Macsen had no idea how he managed to keep his voice quiet. “No! Why?”

 

His grandfather kissed the top of Macsen's head as he started to walk slowly back towards the building. “Macsen, do you know how many people in our clan can do magic, like you?”

 

What kind of question was that to ask now, of all times? Still... “Mamae, of course. Sharae and her p-parents. The keeper, Llinos-”

 

“Shh. You don't have to list them all. But it's a lot of us, isn't it?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“The shemlen who took you hunt those with magic. They catch them, like they did you. Now that they know you live in the forest, they would chase you forever, maybe find others with you and hurt them. If we kill them, even more will come looking. We've known for a long time now that there were too many of us in one place, but we love eachother. We all love you, too, da'len. Don't forget that. But we can't be together anymore. If they knew how many of our people had this gift, they'd never stop hunting. Clan Surana has to separate, and it breaks my heart.”

 

Macsen couldn't believe his ears. “You're going to let them have me.”

 

A long pause followed. They neared the building, and the light was good. Vhenpapae looked at Macsen, hard. At last, he spoke again. “To save many lives I think I have to. The Keeper wants me to. But, tell me, how have they treated you so far? Have they hurt you at all?”

 

Hope sparked in Macsen's mind. If he exaggerated, maybe Vhenpapae would agree to try to run, but then what if the shemlen cut him, too? It would be Macsen's fault. He decided on the truth. “They tied me. The older one wants to drown me, but the younger one won't let him, I don't think, even though it was him who- who cut Mamae. They think I'm very little.”

 

“Ah. I think you should let them think that, for now.” Vhenpapae sat on a bench along the back wall of the building, very near the cat door. “They probably want to take you to the place where they train their own Keepers.”

 

That did sound like what the shemlen said. Macsen nodded.

 

“If you go with them, then they won't hurt anyone else looking for you. Would you want them to find your friend Sharae too?”

 

_Yes._ He could bear this so much more easily if only he had someone, anyone, who loved him to bear it with him. Shame from the selfishness punched Macsen in the stomach. He started crying again. Clan meant everything. Yet, he had to do without it if he didn't want everyone to suffer. It hurt to think about.

 

Vhenpapae rubbed his back in calming circles and let Macsen feel what he felt. Vhenpapae never told anyone to stop crying, he just waited for it to happen. Eventually, it did. After, he pulled a bundle of cloth off his belt and unfolded it. It was Macsen's other tunic and pants; muted green like all the youngest children wore, so they could hide until they learned how to fight. His grandfather helped Macsen dress, six fingers easily doing the work of ten. The cloth was only a little damp.

 

At length, he spoke again. “Listen, da'len. I know this is not fair. I'm asking you to make a terrible sacrifice. But it doesn't have to be forever.”

 

“It doesn't?” Macsen prepared to grab any scrap of hope offered. He had no idea how he could do this, otherwise.

 

“They will teach you. You might even learn things the Keeper doesn't know. This is not our way, but sometimes you must bend to survive, as Andruil taught us.” He paused, and looked expectantly at Macsen, who nodded. “You must keep our secrets, like Dirth'amen. Never let them know about the others. And someday, come back to the clan, like Ghilan'nain.”

 

“How?”

 

“It might be a long time. You must be patient. Watch until you see a way out, even if it would be very hard to do. Then, learn the skills you need to use what you see. Then wait. Don't run until you are _absolutely sure_ that one try is all you need. Then go. Clan Surana won't be the same, but if you find any of the clans, someone will know who you are. I know it's possible. It's been done before. Now tell it back to me.”

 

“I have to watch for the way out. Then I have to learn how to take it. Then wait. Then run when I'm sure I can. Then find the people. Right?”

 

“Right. I know this will be very hard. You will have to be strong. But remember, you carry us with you, inside. Let this remind you.” He took a pendant from around his neck and slid it over Macsen's head.

 

Macsen recognized it immediately. His mother wore it always. His father had given it to her when they bonded. A round, blue charm of iron bark, carved with knotted vines surrounding two leaping halla.

 

“Ma serannas,” Macsen said softly. It didn't feel right to wear this. It wasn't his. But at the same time, he could see her face in his mind so clearly when he looked at it.

 

Vhenpapae pulled Macsen into his lap and wrapped his arms around him. “I wish I knew another way. Our people are all we have. I have to pray for you to come back to us. You must know one more thing. Shemlen will be hard to live with. But whatever they do to you- it isn't your fault. If they tie you up or hit you, it isn't because you deserve it. If you have done wrong, people will explain it to you. Your own heart will also tell you, and it is up to you to make it right. If anyone else tries to _make_ you sorry, it isn't about you, it's about them.”

 

“All right.” Macsen tried to sound less confused than that left him.

 

It didn't work. “Macsen, how did I lose my fingers?”

 

“Shemlen cut them off long ago because they were mad you shot a deer.”

 

“Was I wrong to hunt?”

 

The idea was absurd. “No! The people have hunted forever. Nobody owns deer.”

 

“Then was it all right for them to hurt me?”

 

_Oh._ “No. I see, Vhenpapae.”

 

“Good.” He sighed. “Try to get a little more rest. I will still be here when you wake.”

 

As much as Macsen didn't want to sleep through the last of the time he had with anyone from his clan, it was a losing battle.

 

_Sparks danced in his hands. Mamae looked worried, and they spent a lot of time together. She showed him how to quiet his mind so that the sparks would only come when he wanted. Making lightning tired him and she cuddled him while he rested. “What do you do if you run out when you need more lightning?” he asked her._

 

“ _You don't worry about that until after your vallaslin,” she said. “I will tell you then.”_

 

*

 

Bryant awoke with a crick in his back and the sorest arms he'd ever felt. Yesterday came back to him in a rush and remorse washed over him. _You did what you were supposed to do,_ he told himself again. He thought he'd be saying it quite a bit.

 

He looked over towards the cushion the lady of the house had made up as a bed for his sleeping charge. He gasped and sat up, hurts forgotten.  _It was empty._

 

Why hadn't he thought to set a watch? On the other hand, who set a watch for a toddler who refused to wake up for all the world?  _All right, precocious and temperamental or not, he can't have gone far._ The door hadn't moved. Nobody else seemed in any hurry to. The innkeepers just began to stir upstairs.

 

Bryant checked around all the corners and under everything inanimate in the greatroom and kitchen. Nothing. He headed upstairs and ran into the innkeeper on his way downstairs. He explained the problem as quickly as he could.

 

“Long as nothing's growing extra eyeballs, I don't suppose this counts as 'trouble' from my end,” the man replied. “I'll set my kids to finding the little mite. They know where all the good hiding places are.”

 

“I'm not at all sure that's a good idea. He can throw lightning, though it isn't strong-”

 

“I'll warn them not to be stupid, then. You poke a snake, you get bit.”

 

Before he could do anything about it, a boy and a girl were peeking into rafters and cupboards with businesslike efficiency. Ethan stood there with crossed arms looking insufferably smug. “Told you,” he said. “Trouble.”

 

The goodwife bustled around the kitchen meanwhile, getting breakfast together. She stood up suddenly, and nodded to herself. She unbarred the door and headed out into the yard. She returned moments later, wearing the twin of Ethan's expression.

 

“Sadie! Colin! You can stop now.” She pressed one finger to her lips and beckoned to Bryant with her other hand. He followed her around the back of the inn, towards the kitchen garden and nearby paddock.

 

On the bench sat the most disreputable looking elf Bryant had ever seen. He wore his steel colored hair long and pulled back as though to show off his alarmingly excessive barbarian tattoos. A flame featured prominently on his weathered forehead. He wore tooled leathers but no shoes. The elf bore daggers and a thousand scars. No mage, Bryant would swear.

 

He shot Bryant a look of naked hatred that lasted only a moment before he smoothed it away, leaving an expression so blank, Bryant doubted what he'd seen only a moment before. The elf rested a mutilated hand protectively over the sleeping child in his lap.

 

“It was the cat flap,” whispered the woman. “Sadie used to do that all the time. I'll just leave you to it, then. Don't be spilling blood, anybody. Breakfast will be soon.” She went back inside.

 

The elf murmured something unintelligible to the mage-child, who jolted awake.

 

Bryant fell back on his upbringing. “Good morning, Ser.”

 

The man raised an eyebrow. “Is it? For you, perhaps.”

 

_So much for that._ He sighed. “Not especially. You followed us, then? You're very good.”

 

“I did. I am. Just not good enough to protect my family from the likes of you, when I know how many more of you there are.”

 

“Is that why you didn't take him away in the night when you had the chance?”

 

“Indeed. I'll not have you chasing what's left of my family to find my only grandson.”

 

His spirits sank at the very idea. “I would take no joy in it, but it would be my duty.”

 

“I guessed. Macsen and I have had a talk. He'll go with you. The next time you look for us, we will not be here, and you should be grateful for that.” His eyes hardened. The child had inherited the pale blue and the same expressiveness.

 

“That's his name, then?”

 

The anger changed to disgust. “Macsen Surana. You didn't even ask, did you?  _Shemlen._ ”

 

“He was disinclined to converse.”

 

The old man sighed. “Fair. Will you swear to keep him safe? I am told there was talk of drowning.” He tried to sound resolute but a thread of something else crept in at the end.

 

_Protection._ Being a templar came down to that, in the end. For those in and out of the Circle. He felt it more than he ever had. He couldn't protect the woman yesterday; he had failed her. He didn't know what he could have done differently. “I swear by... all that is holy and by the steel of my blade that I will protect this child. No harm shall come to him that I can prevent.” He had almost sworn by Andraste, but suspected the elves for heathens. He could  _mean_ Andraste without giving insult.

 

The old man nodded when he had finished. The child clung all the harder to his elder. Little fingers left impressions in the leather of his jacket. “It'll be all right, now, Macsen. Ar lath ma. Don't forget us.” He ran a thumb over a blue pendant the child hadn't been wearing, before.

 

Macsen merely nodded, face crumpled with grief.

 

_I am NEVER doing this again,_ Bryant thought.  _I'm not a tracker, anyway. I'm requesting immediate transfer to some tiny blot on a map where I will protect townsfolk from actual dangers, not rabbit thieving families._

 

“Are you staying for breakfast, or heading out right away?” Bryant asked.

 

“I had better go. This won't get any easier.” He stood and handed his grandson to Bryant. “Remember your promise,” he said.

 

They both nodded. Bryant looked back down at Macsen in puzzlement. When he looked up again, the old elf had vanished.

**Author's Note:**

> Elvhen terms:
> 
> Ma halani!- Help me!
> 
> Ma nuvenin- As you wish.
> 
> Shemlen- literally "quick child/children", i.e. humans
> 
> Da'len- "little child", a term of endearment
> 
> Vhenpapae- Grandfather. This is a term of my own creation, made up of vhen- heart and papae- father, extrapolated from the fact that mamae is mother.
> 
> Ar lath ma- I love you.


End file.
